The Good, the Bad and the Beauty
by A Baby Kitten
Summary: Alesabeth Greely is one of Gotham's best safe and lock crackers. When she finally gets apprehended by the police, she's forced to tell her story of how she became intertwined with Gotham's number one villain and Gotham's silent guardian. Will she be able to keep the heroic light of Batman from pulling her from the malicious shadows of the Joker? Or will she fail, harder than ever.
1. Chapter 1

Hey there! I'm new to this and I hope you find my first Fanfiction at least halfway decent. So go easy on me! :)

Rated M, for Mature, because of **Foul Language and **_(Future)_ **Adult Content.****  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, the Dark Knight or any of the characters pertaining to the franchise. **

* * *

"Where do I begin?" Alesabeth said as she tapped her cigarette lightly on the edge of a cheap aluminum ashtray.

The pudgy round man sitting across from her scooted his chair as close to the table as his girth would allow and pressed the end of his ballpoint pen onto a blank pad of paper.

"Just start from the beginning." He looked at her with annoyance on his face. She hated people like this guy. She believed that if you put up the effort to be in a career, you should at least enjoy all of the requisites that came with it. This guy looked like he couldn't give two shits about his job and that really pissed her off.

"Do you mean when it all began for me or when it all began with _him_?" She took a drag off her cigarette then held it nonchalantly in between her middle and fore finger.

The man sighed in aggravation. "I don't care where you choose to begin, you tell the story, I write it down. Simple as that."

Alesabeth licked her lips sneeringly. "You know what, tubs, I think I'm thirsty. Could you be a pal and fetch a gal a drink?"

The man placed his hand on his face in aggravation before standing up and shoving his chair backwards. She didn't blame him for being a little annoyed, she'd been here for almost three hours and still hadn't given them what they'd asked for. Why would she? She was a criminal and they were the cops. The pigs had locked up plenty of her friends and family so why should she go so easily? Besides, she was in no hurry. They probably had enough to lock her up until she was old and crippled so she felt no shame in making "Officer Donuts" heed her beck and call.

It'd been twenty minutes since he left and she began to wonder if someone had brought in some snacks and he made a pit stop. She patted out her cigarette butt in the pit of the ashtray, then picked up the pack of cigs they'd given her and was tapping out another when the door swung open. She expected the same guy that had been trying to make her squeal for almost the entire night but it wasn't. It was a new man and he was tall, dark and handsome. By his suit, she assumed he must be further up the ladder than "El Lard-O" and he probably wasn't going to take her shit. He shot her smile then took a seat.

"Hello," He paused as he opened a Manila folder and flipped up her picture to read her name. "Alesabeth Greely. Wanted for: burglary, theft, arson, trespassing, assault with a deadly weapon, possession of an unlicensed firearm, grand theft auto, breaking and entering and disturbing the peace." He closed the folder up and laid it down on the table.

"Are you sure you've got it all?" She said sarcastically as she lit up her fresh cigarette.

"I don't know, is there more you'd like for me know?" He laid his hands on the table and interlocked his fingers.

He had one of those faces that would make even the sturdiest criminal spill the beans but Alesabeth could see in his eyes that he was just as malicious as she was. A cop with a criminal purpose. Not one of those cops you see taking money to avert their eyes, no, this guy was the type of cop that would lure you in with kindness, get you to confess all of your deepest darkest secrets then not think twice about throwing your sorry ass in jail. This guy took his job seriously and she could tell he loved every bitter piece of it.

She gave him a crooked smile and ignored his question. "So, Tubs couldn't do the job so they sent a professional."

"If you want something done you got to do it yourself. Isn't that how the saying goes?" He leaned back in his chair as he spoke.

"Yeah," Alesabeth took a puff off her cigarette then ashed it. "Yeah, something like that."

"So," He reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a recorder. "are you going to cooperate?" He shook the recorder slightly, implying that she still needed to give up any information about _him_ that she could.

"What choice do I have?" She said taking a puff off her cigarette.

"None, really, but the more you tell us, the less time you spend in jail and the more time you'll have with-"

"Yeah, yeah, I understand. It was rhetorical." She said, cutting him off from finishing his sentence.

He nodded. "Fair enough." He clicked on the reorder and pulled out a small green notebook and a pen. "Please state your name."

"Alesabeth Greenly." She said.

"Do you understand that you are being recorded?" He asked.

"Yes."

"And are you okay with being recorded?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Just start from the beginning." He said as he stared down at his notepad.

Alesabeth took a deep breath. "Well I guess I'll start back when I was a kid."

* * *

I grew up on the lower east side of Gotham. My mother worked at a nearby dry cleaners making minimum wage and my father, well, what father? It didn't bother me much not knowing or having him around and from what my mother told me, he was a thief and a rapist. Yep, that's right, I'm the product of one of my mother's worst lifetime events but that didn't stop her from loving me. She worked her ass off at that Korean dry cleaners for years and only received one raise. She would've quit if it wasn't for the economy being in the shitter. Jobs were hard to come by and if you had one you were thankful for making any money at all.

I remember the first time our poverty took a blow to my childhood. Some of the kids were going to some carnival in the nicer part of east side and like any other kid I wanted to go. Unfortunately, when I asked my mother for the coin she told me we had no extra funds for me to go. I hated her at first but later on I realized it wasn't her fault but the stupid dry cleaners where she worked. Then I realized it wasn't their fault either. It was this shitty city and it's lack of attention to those in the lower class. What can you do? Nothing. We were ants and those political assholes were the kids with the magnifying glasses torturing us everyday. You just prayed the sun didn't burn you too bad when woke up every morning.

The first time I stole was the first day I realized my purpose in life. We were at our local supermarket and they had one of those candy bins filled plum full with every type of candy you could imagine. I didn't even bother asking my mom if we could afford it this time, I just went over, picked out my favorite candy, made sure no one was looking and slipped it into the pocket of my ratty old shorts. I felt a rush of adrenaline like I had never felt before. The feel of the candy against my leg felt like a scab, you just wanted to pick at it until it came off. It was there and I wanted it gone.

After we left the store and went back to our one bedroom apartment, I went into the bathroom and pulled out the stolen piece of candy. It felt like I was holding a million dollars in my hand. Everything about it was exhilarating, the weight of it in my palm, the crinkle of the wrapper and the sweet smell that seeped out through the flap that sealed it was like every Christmas morning combined into one. I quickly unwrapped it and devoured it. I learned that day that the best things in life aren't free, but they could be.

After that, it just escalated. From pieces of candy, to bags of candy, to boxes of candy, to candy stores and candy warehouses. All of it was mine for the taking and I took it, every damn piece of it. Over the years, I had become pretty nifty with cracking open locks and safes. I pretty much taught myself from experience, a few instruction manuals and books at the library. You'd be surprised how many books there are at the public library that teach you how to tap tumblers. As it turns out, I had a knack for breaking and entering and word of my skill had reached some pretty filthy ears. Crime bosses were knocking at my door wanting me to join their forces. I had declined a lot of them but when my cousin, David, showed up at my door asking for my help, how could I turn him down? He was family and I figured what the hell, I could use whatever benefits came from these jobs. TVs, clothes, cash, whatever.

Turned out, David and his "friends" weren't just stealing a few knick knacks. The first job he took me on was at some high end jewelry store. That was all fine and dandy with me. Jewelry stores were nothing compared to some of the warehouses I'd broken into in the past. Nah, it wasn't the type of store, it was where the store was. You see, in lower east side, or any other shit neighborhood, stores had pretty much given up on the quality of alarms they put in. I'm sure it wasn't because they didn't want the best of the best but they tend to get pretty pricey. You throw a brick through the window, you set off no alarm because the store owner could only afford a door alarm. Merchandise free for the taking. Now, upscale stores, they can afford all the bells and whistles, no pun intended.

I was pretty skeptical but David assured me the store had no cameras, just door and window alarms. Fine. Get in, get out. I like my jobs like I like my men, quick and fast. I popped the lock and as soon as the door opened the alarm went off. So I made a beeline for the cases while David tried to scrounge for a safe. Which was either his first or second mistake because little did I know, David had lied and there were cameras everywhere. Once I realized it, it was too late, so I just grabbed what I could and bailed hard. I even left my ignorant cousin behind. I would've went straight home and said, "Fuck that guy," but he was my cousin and I was more interested in giving him an ear full.

Hours later, he still hadn't showed at our rendezvous. Dumb ass stayed too long and got busted. What can you do? Nothing, but now I was officially a wanted woman which wasn't good. The cops went to my mom's house and all my friends and family so I had no where to go. I decided I had nothing to lose and went back to David's "friends".

They immediately wanted the jewelry I had rightfully stolen. I was hesitant at first but I had no place to go, no where to hide and no one to turn to so I decided what the hell. Turns out, Lady Luck was on my side and my profitable loot and skills with locks impressed the leader or the boss or whatever you want to call him. So in exchange for my "professional" skills I got to stay with him. It wasn't the greatest place but there was a bed and there were no cops. It was the freaking Hilton compared to everything else.

So for five years I lived that way. I was eight when I stole my first piece of candy, sixteen when David got caught and when I was twenty one I was considered the best of the best. Of course I got a lot of beef because I was a woman but shrugging off dirty men is like picking a lock, you hit the right tumbler and they crack open. Needless to say, I've given my fair share of knees to the balls and I didn't take shit from anyone.

My life was great, I was doing what I loved while getting a surplus of cash and merchandise for it. It was all milk and honey except for missing my mother. I'd sent messengers to tell her I was doing fine and that I missed her but everytime they came back, they said she had nothing to say. I wasn't sure if she was ashamed that her daughter was now one of Gotham's best lock and safe crackers or if she was just too afraid of me to even let me know that she still existed. Even today, I couldn't tell you how my mother's doing because she still hasn't sent a message back. I did my fair share of crying over it so no need to do it again. Once a bridge is burned, that's it, you're better off gathering what you can from it and use it to fuel the next one you burn down. That's the motto I live by, anyway.

I'm sure by now you're wondering about Batman. He was a chump, a fool, a crazy guy that tried to stop crime with a fancy outfit. At least that's how I thought of him. A lot of my boss' boys had been caught by him but not me. I had managed to run faster, steal faster and avoid him at all costs. That's what I believed at first anyway. That was until I began to notice on several jobs when I had seen him that he was just bypassing me. He was letting me get away. Not until later did I realize that he was doing it on purpose but that part of the story comes later.

So where did things get complicated with me and the Batman? Well I guess you'd have to listen to how I came to know him, Gotham's number one menace. My boss had sent me, his perfectly sharpened tool, out on a bank job. I'd done plenty of bank jobs and at this bank before. They'd recently installed a new vault so I had been studying up on it for weeks and knew exactly how to crack it open and the tools and time I'd need. Getting into the bank was easy but once I got to the vault, now that was a different story.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to those who read my first chapter and reviewed or favorited! This one is no longer in first person but don't worry, Alesabeth's conversation with the detective will still form a few chapters in the future. For now, the story will continue in a third person view. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, The Dark Knight or any of the characters pertaining to the franchise.**

* * *

"Johns, hand me that screwdriver." Alesabeth said as she continued to drill a hole through the almost two foot thick metal of the vault.

She thought she was prepared after weeks of studying this kind of vault but she was wrong on the tools. She was kicking herself for not bringing the right ones. It was a rookie mistake, not one of someone with years of experience.

"Fuck!" She said as she slammed her fist into the door of the vault. "Johns! Where are you?" She looked around behind her and noticed the four men that had accompanied her were now missing in action.

Her immediate thought was that they bailed on her or had thrown her to the wolves. She listened for sirens or any signs that she wasn't alone. It was frighteningly quiet. She panicked and immediately started shoving her tools into a leather knapsack. She couldn't believe after all she'd done for those assholes they would just bail on her like this. Didn't even say anything, just left.

Once she got all the tools in, she went to stand up and bumped into someone. She quickly turned, her eyes widened and she couldn't believe who she was staring at. That tailored purple suit, those leather purple gloves, the ridiculous clown paint and those scars. Those scars! She dropped her tool bag and tried to make a beeline for the exit. She busted out the back door, turned and ran down the steps but once she hit the sidewalk, her freedom was short lived. Two goons in creepy clown masks were pointing AK 47s right at her. She put her hands up in surrender mode and the handle of the metal door she just busted out of made a clanking sound. She turned to see the Joker swing out with the door clumsily. Once he got his balance, he stood there holding the door open and wiggled his fingers in a waving manner at her and his face wore that trademark grin.

He turned his finger up and motioned for her to come to him. The two henchmen jabbed the barrels of their guns into her back and forced her in his direction. Once she got close, he grabbed the back of her head with one hand and used the other to get a firm grip under her jaw. She immediately tensed up and jerked her head around in his grasp but he quickly steadied her by using the strength in his forearms and tightening his hands around her head. Once she was firmly secured, he turned her face from side to side, examining her.

"I know you." He said with a sing song voice.

She had never seen the Joker up close or at all for that matter. Just blurry pictures in the paper and she heard stories of his unique look but she never imagined he would look so menacing. So intimidating and powerful at the same time. Alesabeth had also heard the stories of his reputation and she thought it best to just cooperate and let this grimey clown breathe his hot breath on her face. For the moment.

"You're that fool, Maroni's little locksmith girl, aren't you?" He tilted her head back and his along with it like he was still unsure of his question. He flashed her another malicious smile before saying, "Come with me."

He let go of her face to grab hold of her bicep. His finger's were like vice grips as he yanked on her, pulling her back inside the bank and down the hall to the vault. There, he wrapped the crook of his arm around her chest to hold her in place and pinned the back her body against his. She writhed and wriggled in his grip intensely.

"Ah, ah, ah!" He said as she felt the cool metal of a knife against her throat. "We wouldn't want scars on that lovely skin, now would we?"

She just stood there with her skin rubbing against the coarse material of his clothes. It was scratchy and made her itch. She realized how much taller he was than the stories made him out to be. She was a short girl, about five one so she barely came up to his chest and it made her feel like a kid standing next to an adult. She grunted and wanted to keep struggling to free herself but at even her slightest movement he would press the knife harder against her flesh. She felt the small trickle of fresh blood bead down her throat the harder he imbedded his blade.

"Let me show you how a man opens a safe." He said as three of his henchmen came in and attached C4 to the door of the vault.

"You're crazy! You'll kill us all!" She screamed.

"Five, four, three, two, one!" When he got to one the C4 exploded sending them all backwards and onto the floor.

Alarms were blaring but she could still hear the crazy cackling of the Joker and she peered through slitted eyes to watch him get up unscathed and go over to the men that were ushering out tons of cash from the blown vault. He grabbed a handful and threw it up in the air and the bills floated down with the debri.

"Men! Doing it better than women since, well, since forever." His laugh was high pitched, like a hyena's, as he laughed at his own joke.

She prayed he left her there. Hell, jail seemed like the better choice in this situation. She laid there in pain from the explosion and her arm felt like it was on fire. She finally gathered enough strength to sit up in time to see the Joker's henchmen carrying out the last of the money. The Joker turned to look at her and her stomach felt like there was a rock inside of it, dragging it to the floor. She begged to whatever god there was that he left her there.

Her prayers came unanswered as she watched him nod to his men and they immediately came over and lifted her up by her arms. First came the pain, then came the fight. She kicked and cursed and screamed at the top of her lungs. Like hell she was going with him. Once they got her outside, they carried her to an old box truck and tossed her inside. She stood up and banged on the doors but they were locked so she banged on the walls instead. The two men got into the cab and the driver took off fast, sending her flying backwards and into the doors of the truck. More pain.

"You fucking assholes!" She screamed. "Let me go!"

They ignored her, of course, why wouldn't they? They were the peons of Gotham's best criminal. They probably felt like Zeus sitting up there in the cab of this clunker P.O.S. She ran over to the small window that separated her from the front passengers.

****"Let me go! I'll do whatever you want!" She offered. Of course, that wasn't the best plan she had come up with in her life but she'd do it if it meant avoiding that green haired freak. The two clown masked men looked at each other for a second as if contemplating her offer then shook their heads and continued driving to their unknown destination. Well, it was worth a shot she figured.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi everyone, I apologize this one took me a while to post. I've been working on another fanfiction and the beginning is holding me up. I'm just not satisfied with it and it's causing me to rack my brain. Bleh.

Anywho, I've already written a lot of chapters for this one so I'll try to be more prompt with the updates on it.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, the Dark Knight or any of the characters pertaining to the franchise.**

* * *

It felt like Alesabeth had been locked inside that sweaty and hot box truck for days. No water, no food and no air conditioning. She lifted her arm pit and took a whiff. Her face wrinkled as she inhaled the aftermath of the midsummer heat. She couldn't tell if it was daytime or nighttime because the assholes that threw her in this truck had covered the small window to the front long ago. She tried banging on the door again but if she was still in east end Gotham, no one would even think twice to investigate a girl locked in the back of a truck. The fear of whoever owned the truck was greater than the act of heroism.

What got her was that the truck was completely empty. There was absolutely nothing back here, not even a piece of garbage. Which was strange because the Joker did just blow up a bank vault and had a mob of henchmen so having some sort of weapon or tool would be something they kept handy. Nope, it was almost like he planned on capturing her. She was good at what she did but she wasn't that good. Not good enough to kidnap anyway.

She slumped down in the corner of the truck. Her arm felt horrendous. She could feel that it was blistered and possibly on the verge of an infection by now. It had scabbed over some and every time she moved it the scab pulled on her healthy skin. It was worse than the actual pain. She also had discovered numerous other scrapes and bruises from the explosion all over body. While picking a pair of cargo pants was a bad choice for the heat, they were excellent for deflecting some of the debris from the explosion.

How did she let this happen? Seven years of picking locks and she never got caught. The one time she does and it's by a lunatic that goes around using C4 like it's no big deal. Like it doesn't explode and seriously harm people near the explosion. She was scratching around her burn eagerly when the doors to the truck flew open. It was night time and a street light shined inside the truck reflecting off the metal of the floor and blinding her. Once her eyes adjusted she saw two guys standing at the doors staring at her.

"Come on, let's go." The tallest one said as he gripped his Uzi in his hands.

Alesabeth just sat there staring at the shadows of their faces. The smallest guy banged the butt of his gun onto the floor scaring the living shit out of her.

"Let's fucking go!" He shouted.

"Alright calm your tits. No need to get loud." She smarted off.

She stood and made her way to the back of the truck. While her arm was sending waves of agonizing pain all over her body, she still kept it to her side like it wasn't bothering her at all. She knew thugs like these guys and they liked to take your weaknesses and use them against you. If they saw her clutching her arm like a helpless little child, they would definitely go out of their way to inflict more pain on her. Putting up a front was the best way to go.

"Come on, ponytail." The tallest one said as he reached up and pulled her down out of the truck by the front of her shirt.

She caught herself, barely, and they laughed as they shoved her towards an abandoned building. It looked like it used to be a small office building, only three stories high with a worn out horizontal blur of where a sign used to be. Almost all the windows were busted out and the bricks were so worn it looked like they would crumble at any time. She didn't want to go in there. She knew whatever was in there was going to be ten times worse than anything she'd encountered in her life. While the idea of trying to run was screaming at the top of its lungs, the Uzis in her back was swiftly muting it.

So she had no choice but to enter into the darkness of a nightmare. The smell was worst than the sight. Mold mixed with some sort of rot burned inside of her nostrils. If her stomach wasn't empty she was certain she would've thrown up all the corroded floor. Which would've just added to the sticky goop that was already stuck to it. Thank god she was wearing a pair of work boots.

They prodded her down the halls until they came to a room where several other henchmen were strewn about on tattered couches and recliners. Some sat at a table playing cards while others watched a huge flat screen tv. Beer bottles and fast food garbage made the room even more unkempt. All the men stopped to stare at her. She still tried to keep a stern face as her escorts stopped to banter with their fellow thugs. They became so wrapped up in talking that it seemed they'd forgotten about her. She slowly began backing up towards the doorway they came in.

She had just reached the threshold when she bumped up against something. What were the chances of bumping into him again? She turned around and found herself staring at that white clown makeup once again. She guessed the odds were pretty high.

"Hi." He said coyly. Her two escorts noticed what was going on and quickly apprehended her. "You know, I was always told it was rude to leave without saying goodbye."

She watched as he went over to the card table and picked up one of the folded hands of one of his goons. His presence in the room was intimidating even to his own men. She could tell by the looks on their faces that even they were aware of how spontaneous their boss could be. She had heard the rumors of how ruthless he could be, even to his own help. He picked up several more cards off the table then walked over to her. He fanned out the cards face down and held them out to her.

"Pick a card, any card." He said slowly while turning up the corners of his mouth into a smile. If you could call it that.

She just stared at his face, completely taken aback by the soulless void in his eyes.

She wondered how a man could live without a soul, or a conscience for that matter. He urged the cards at her and raised his eyebrows in an eager manner. One of the guys behind her pushed on her arm. She quickly yanked it away from him then slowly placed her fingers around one of the worn out playing cards. She tugged on it lightly but before she could pull it out, the joker quickly pulled out a small hand pistol from inside his jacket and fired it off into the forehead of the guy that shoved her. She covered her ears and ducked down slightly. It was too late though, she couldn't hear anything except the loud steady ringing in her ear from the gunshot. Blood stained her face and arms and her skin tight purple tshirt.

"Was that your card?" He cackled crazily as he tossed the cards onto the dead body then tucked the pistol back in side a hidden pocket of his jacket.

"Jesus Christ." She whispered under her breath.

This guy was certifiably insane. She looked back at the dead guy at her feet and the sight of his brains oozing out the missing portion of his skull made her stomach churn. She had seen plenty of dead guys before but never anything like this. She covered her mouth but quickly moved her hand when she discovered it was covered with blood. Several guys were already dragging the body off. They were obviously used to the Jokers shenanigans by now but she wasn't. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably from shock.

"So," He drug out the end of the word and managed to draw her attention from the gruesome scene. "How did a beautiful diamond in the rough become part of Maroni's little entourage?" He had poured himself a glass of whiskey and was waving it around as he spoke. His voice was so frightening and his accent was like none she had heard before.

She quickly sorted through all the possible responses that would hopefully not get the contents of her head painted onto the wall. When she opened her mouth to speak she found herself choking on a knot in her throat.

"I-" She swallowed hard. "I guess I found him." The end of her statement somehow became a question. She wanted to melt into the floor she was so intimidated by him.

He took a swig of his drink then set the glass down. She watched him like a hawk, trying to predict his next action but it was impossible. He was so unpredictable, that there was no way she could even guess what he would do next.

"Well, it seems that _I_ have found _you_ and seeing as we now have room for one more, you work for me now." He walked over to her and was so close she could smell the leather of his gloves and the fresh whiskey on his breath.

He stared down at her and she stared up at him with wide eyes. This was literally, the worst day of her life. Why her? Why, out of all the thirty million people in this city, did the Joker have to pick her? She just knew it wouldn't be long before it was her body these goons were dragging out to the trash.

He flashed that crazy broken smile at her then patted her on the cheek roughly. "Don't look so nervous, they're only scars." His grin widened enough to show off those menacing teeth.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, spun her around and guided her body over to an empty seat on one of the grody couches. He pushed her down onto the cushion and leaned in close to her ear.

"Sit back, relax, were going to have fun together!" He stood up straight and laughed maniacally then disappeared off into the darkness of the hallway.

She looked around her and all the men were staring at her like she was a meal. She frowned and let her body sink into the worn cushion of the couch. How could this day get any worst?


End file.
